


Snow for Christmas

by Archeste



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Angst, F/M, Persona 5 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:27:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21725239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archeste/pseuds/Archeste
Summary: A white Christmas, fresh crisp snow scattered in the streets, not yet deep enough to cause problems, but enough to stay white and beautiful.And COLD.Everything was cold today.
Relationships: Amamiya Ren/Togo Hifumi, Kurusu Akira/Togo Hifumi
Comments: 5
Kudos: 41





	Snow for Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> I'm USUALLY a happy ending kind of guy.  
> Not this time.  
> You have been warned.

“…I wish you had talked to me about it.”

A white Christmas, fresh crisp snow scattered in the streets, not yet deep enough to cause problems, but enough to stay white and beautiful.

And COLD.

Everything was cold today.

Her dreams were frozen. Usually she rules a warm sunlit kingdom, a wise and just queen ruling over contented townsfolk, her hand in his. But winter has brought the snow, and the queen sits alone, the throne at her side empty. The sky grey with heavy clouds. Her people huddled inside against the chill.

It is hard to warm a castle. Her breath is frost in the air. She runs through frigid hallways, hearing the echo of footsteps, but never catching sight of him.

Her hand cold and empty at her side.

His absence a void stealing the breath from her lungs and the rest from her sleep.

* * *

The house was cold and dark as the castle. Her father was in hospital for a few days for treatments, her mother watching over him. No warm meal or happy family waiting here to greet her waking. The only light and warmth the ones she carried with her. The only Christmas breakfast the one she cooks herself.

No call from her boyfriend to warm the day, only a tickling echo of last night that wore at her nerves and chilled her.

The streets were bitter as she made her way to the hospital to visit her father. More snow had fallen overnight. A fresh carpet, ignored or cursed by the people who braved it. The wind, too lazy to go around her, went straight through her coat and chills her to the bone.

And that little voice inside her, the one who echoed in the night and coloured her dreams, was colder still, it didn’t bother to freeze her face and burn her lungs.

It went straight for her blood.

Ren was LYING to her.

Hifumi was a good liar, she could spot a bad one a mile off. She’d had practice.

She’d had TRAINING. They called it battlefield misdirection in shogi, and a stage face in the idol industry, but the principle was the same.

She lied to her opponents: Passing off feint as thrust, defense as attack. Victory as defeat until the last moment.

She’d lied to her fans: The perfect Venus, the idol. Beauty love and devotion, only for them, wanting nothing for herself. As she fought the urge to curl in a ball and cry.

She’d lied to her father: Telling him she was happy with her mother’s plans to make her an idol even as the noose tightend and strangled her.

She’d lied to her Mother: telling her that the boy meant nothing to her. As his presence made her stronger with every game, every smile and every kiss.

She lied to herself: She was sure Ren would be fine, that he’d be back without a scratch the next time they played.

She was a hard person to lie to.

But Ren…

Ren was a **terrible** liar.

It was so cute when they played shogi, he was so determined that he’d convince her this was the real plan, the true attack and not the feint. That this piece was not the lynchpin of his assault.

It was less cute the rest of the time.

That he was fine. That he’d always had a limp. That the bags under his eyes was due to a single late night studying, not months of exertions. That their games of shogi weren’t the only time he’d relaxed in weeks.

That he hadn’t been coming to say goodbye that night in November, just in case he didn’t come back.

And when he did, bruised, beaten and declared dead, that the worst was over with.

And now this…

He’d told her it was over, that they’d won.

And he’d LIED.

She had ice in her veins as she entered the hospital because that meant, whatever Ren had planned, he wanted her nowhere near it.

**Because he was afraid.**

And the thought of what could scare him chilled her.

* * *

The hospital is warmer, her father is feeling better and will be home in a few more days. Their game of shogi goes his way, the old general beating the distracted queen soundly. Her mother gives her a small gift, a beginner’s shogi puzzle book. Far below her level, but a gift more happily received than the stylist vouchers and deportment lessons she’d previously given.

A gift for her, not to shape the idol.

The change of heart is strange. She’d seen it the moment it happened. Her Mother had gone from arguing with a photographer about the exact angle to take a photo from to best show off her daughter’s legs but not reveal too much, to weeping and begging her forgiveness. Confessing every single thing she’d ever done wrong, thought wrong. Everything done for her benefit, not her daughters.

But some tales are told for a good reason.

So many truths cut sharper than the blunted lies. So many little things she’d never questioned, now with the light of the truth glinting off hidden edges ready to cut from unexpected angles. The change made no distinction between self-serving jealousy and protecting a child from the dangers of the world. And the changed heart tore away every illusion leaving her raw and aching.

She hadn’t mentioned that to Ren. He’d done it to help, she knew that. He’d changed her Mother’s heart the way he’d changed the heart of criminals, exploiters and monsters. To protect the victims.

To protect HER.

None of the criminals they’d faced had seemed to have anyone left. He'd never seen the full effect of the process on the innocent caught in the blast.

So he didn’t know what it was like. She’d had her entire life, picked up and shaken like a snow globe, watching the truth fall like snowflakes, and seeing a different landscape with the same name stretching before and behind her. No longer knowing where she could safely step.

Or maybe he did, she’d learned a little of his reasons for his time in Tokyo. And if so she could never let him think he’d had done the same to her. She loved him too much for that.

She’d looked into his eyes and seen his desperate hope that he'd succeeded, that he’d solved her problems and she loved him for it, so she lied and told him it was all fine.

She was a good liar.

It had lessened over time, once the initial rush of guilt had burst the dam and washed away all in its path. Her mother had begun moving forward again, nearly her headstrong self, but now almost scared of doing wrong. No more photoshoots, or fixed matches, but no more false compliments or sugar coated pills either.

Her father was ecstatic, she was almost the women he’d married again. Without the years of jealousy and regrets.

It was just a women Hifumi had barely met before, wearing her mother’s face.

She gathered her things and headed home, bidding farewell to her father, tired after the visit, and her strange new mother.

To walk into the teeth of a freezing wind to buy ingredients for her lonely Christmas meal.

With no messages left by her boyfriend to warm her heart and a worrying itch digging into her mind, colder than the wind.

* * *

Her home was even colder now, compared to the hospital. She forced it back with lights and sound from the television and the smell of cookies, baked from a recipe book neither her mother nor she had ever touched.

The smell of burning cookies slightly later.

The warmth she’d fought so hard for blown away in a second as the windows were opened to clear the smoke.

The news of Shido’s pending charges were everywhere on the television, a drop of icy water running down her back distracting her while the smell of tortured baking filled the air.

They'd been so guarded on Shido's crimes. To declare certainty now could not be a coincidence.

Something had changed...

And still no call from her boyfriend. She’d left him a message, wishing him well. Asking to see him again later.

Hoping to be wrong.

She busied herself elsewhere. Finishing a little homework, cleaning the kitchen. Dropping and clattering through simple tasks with fingers too cold and stiff to move well.

She turned to her mother’s gift in desperation, hoping for something to distract her racing mind. Bring her back to the Queen of the battlefield, and away from the worried girl.

The book was far too simple. The puzzles often nonsensical, full of situations you could never reach and answers that made no sense. It ignored more complicated rules, letting the children live in that protected bubble where they knew the way the game worked, with the world poised to burst it and prove them wrong at any second.

Maybe she should pass it on to Ren! Give him something to read while he didn’t call her. Left her alone and worrying.

This was no way to treat **His** Queen… Her king must make amends for this and soon.

Why didn't he call?

The person who’d set up these games certainly played like Ren! Flashy, over the top, as like to go down in flames than to burn his opponent. She smiled, wistfully. He was always fond of the big exciting gambits. Choosing them over more subtle and effective tactics nearly every time. These boards sang of them.

Eight pieces against an army.

Pawns only, pushed around and punished until they reached their goal and were promoted unto true power, ready to take back what the opponent had stolen.

A scattered board, with only a few pieces to move to protect many.

_Something in her mind pricked at her. Its icy voice begging for her attention._

The games weren’t real ones, there was no way someone could get themselves get into those situations. Not unless their opponent was cheating. You couldn’t move the pieces when your opponent looked away, it wasn’t sporting.

It also rarely worked, and prompted censure or retaliation when spotted.

Besides, this army was fielded by a madman! You didn’t shield pawns with knights, your generals and lances shouldn’t be behind the king. They should be attacking, and sacrificed for advantage for the side, or kept in reserve to pin down the final victory.

It was a lesson she’d taken months to drum into Ren. Although he was improving, he still wasn't much of a tactician, and he was very stubborn about sacrificing his pieces for the greater good.

He hadn’t written this book had he? Everything she saw reminded her of her king.

Look at this puzzle. It was Ren all over! The player’s side had somehow made a grand flashy gesture and got their opponent pinned in a corner. Through some dark magic apparently, since normal play could have never done it. The opponent had lost a few pieces, but none of them were that important. They were in check, but she could see a half dozen ways they could escape it. The trap was barely holding.

Meanwhile the other side’s board had given up but a single piece, but the position they were in was vulnerable, each piece watched by foes ready to take them when the chance appeared. But it was almost as if the board was constructed to tempt them to take the king. If the opponent did that, they were done. No trick or move could save them. The snare would spring and nothing the hapless opponent had built would be left standing.

A cunning trap, but one set by a player who didn't fully understand the rules.

A foolish puzzle in a stupid book. You didn’t win if a move cost you your king. You were in check and another move had to be made instead and if you couldn’t make one, you lost.

There was no way to win a game where you…

_The book fell from her frozen fingers._

sacrificed…

your…

king.

_His face last night…_ _She'd seen that look in his eyes before._

_In November. When he thought he mightn't come back._

_How had she not recognised it? It had featured heavily in her nightmares since..._

The board resolved itself, his tactics apparent at last.

_He hadn’t won but it wasn’t because he’d lost._

_IT WAS BECAUSE HE WAS STILL PLAYING!_

_But Ren was still Ren, fool that he was, and even when playing a game with stakes this high he_ _was never prepared to sacrifice any of his pieces._

_Save **ONE**._

* * *

His Voicemail answered her call.

“REN, its Hifumi. Please answer the phone. I need you to talk to me!”

It hadn't rung. So is her number blocked or is the phone off? It doesn’t matter. He’s already moving if he’s taken that step.

_Or it's already too late..._

She drums her fingers on the table then grabs her bag and tears out the door into the cold, slamming it behind her.

* * *

Voicemail Again.

“AMAMIYA! You never turn this off, WHY IS THIS OFF?! What are you planning?!“

Calling him does nothing. But it gives her something to focus on so she doesn't tear herself apart in frustration.

Her heart is hammering in her chest, pumping ice water through her veins as she runs down the stairs to the station and dashes through the closing doors of the train.

* * *

VOICEMAIL.

“WE CAN’T WIN IF YOU SACRIFICE THE KING YOU IDIOT! DON’T YOU FUCKING **DARE!** ”

The other passengers on the train stare at her in shocked disapproval at the loud young lady’s language.

The tears are frozen on her face and she doesn’t care.

* * *

His phone picked up.

“Togo-san.”

Not voicemail, but not the right voice.

**Not his voice.**

Makoto, sounding so tired...

Hifumi brings her panicked rush to a faltering stop, looking at the closed sign on the Leblanc door. The lights are on, but there is no Christmas party inside today. No songs or laughter. She can feel the frost in the air.

“Makoto, I’m too late, aren’t I?” She already knows the answer.

“He… turned himself in this morning.”

And the ice in her veins reaches her heart and it freezes solid.

Her only chance to protect her king was last night and she'd walked away.

Not that it would have worked. Ren was stubborn as a mule when it came to the safety of his friends.

But she could have TRIED! 

“He’s testifying against Shido to ensure his conviction. But that means he’ll be remanded in custody for violating his probation. He… didn’t want them coming after us. He’s protecting everyone.”

Except himself. Never himself.

Everyone else is more important to him.

But not to her.

“Togo-san?”

She’d seen the scars, the bruises. The opponents the thieves fought had never pulled their punches.

And he’d gone to face this one alone.

She pushes open the door to Leblanc, walking past a surprised Owner and stunned group of people she assumed were the rest of the thieves and climbs the stairs. The thunder in her ears drowning out the questions.

“Hifumi? Please! Are you there?” Makoto is worried about her, it barely registers.

She turns at the creaking of the stairs and sees her and hurriedly hangs up the phone.

“Did you go out without a coat?! Hifumi! You’ll get sick, it's FREEZING!”

She'd forgot it at home, and hadn’t noticed. Makoto is calling for the others, for coffee. To warm her up.

It won't work, the cold is coming from the inside now. From the shard of ice that was her heart.

She wants to slap her. For being here when he is not, for letting him do this alone.

But it won’t help.

Nothing will.

He wouldn’t have told them either. They could have stopped him.

“Hifumi...Ren left this with my sister. He told her I’d know who it went to. It’s you.”

A honu charm on a simple chain, just a little thing. A cheap souvenir, bought by a smitten girl for the boy that gave her butterflies.

Given to him in a Hawaiian sunset, long before they began dating.

“We’re going to get him back, Hifumi.”

A small silver turtle with a clear green stone, she’d chosen it because it caught the light.

Ren said it reminded him of her eyes.

"Hifumi?"

A tiny thing, a little choice, one moment.

So little thought.

Yet Ren had never let it go.

**Until now.**

Her hands are shaking.

“Is it a Christmas present?”

Hifumi shakes her head.

“It's a message.” She clasps it in her hands until her knuckles go white.

“What does it say?”

Hifumi’s voice is lifeless and coated in frost.

“That he isn’t sure he’s coming back.”

* * *

It was so cold…

More snow is falling, burying the footsteps, freezing the world.

**SHE DOESN'T CARE.**

She barely feels the blanket the shaking blonde slips over her, the hug from the girl with fluffy hair that soaks her shoulder in tears or Makoto rubbing her hands and crying.

The blanket smells like Ren.

_He's not here._

The coffee smells like his.

_It's not._

**SHE FEELS SICK.**

They have plans, ideas, they’ll prove him innocent, set him free and bring him home. 

They still have hope.

**SHE DOESN'T.**

There is only the black cold of the void and the pain of a wounded animal howling for her lost mate.

There is a lump of ice in her chest and it feels like nothing will ever be warm again.

No moves left, Hifumi.

Your king is taken and you've LOST. 

Merry Christmas.


End file.
